


The Seeds Persephone Ate

by shadow13



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (but no dead doves), Corruption, Dark relationship, Entrapment, F/M, Finwean Ladies Week, the relationship is by its nature dubcon but this really isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow13/pseuds/shadow13
Summary: In the darkness of Nan Elmoth, the White Lady shone like a star, and as this was the only kind of light Eöl loved, he watched her with deep fascination, and wanted her.How the Dark Elf of Nan Elmoth came to wed the White Lady of Gondolin, and all the ways she invited him to.For Finwean Ladies Week 2020 on Tumblr!
Relationships: Aredhel/Eöl (Tolkien)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16
Collections: Finwëan Ladies Week 2020





	The Seeds Persephone Ate

In the darkness of Nan Elmoth, the White Lady shone like a star, and as this was the only kind of light Eöl loved, he watched her with deep fascination, and wanted her. “Fair is she, above all else in the dark wood,” he said. This lost little bird, having flown her cage, wandered endlessly, and so he said his actions were a mercy, to set her path so she wandered only further toward him. What might become of Aredhel if he did not? What claws might she fall into were the Dark Elf not here to rescue her?

And as Aredhel had known little of the dark, the depths of the woods fascinated her. There was a quiet here that could not be found in Gondolin, with its flowing fountains and singing voices. Music here carried differently, strains like lullabies, deep and low, so that she lay against the neck of her horse and let him lead while she drifted in and out of beautiful, peaceful sleep. The light of the stars above filtered through the heavy canopy of the trees, and dappled her in a light like crystals, and she was not afraid of anything here.

She was not afraid as she approached the great mansion in the center of the dark wood, either, its pillars of black stone, and the gleam of silver upon the door. Nor was she afraid of the man who stood in the courtyard, with his long black hair, and his gleaming, black armor. Why should she be? No one ever had any cause to hurt Aredhel, and she was of the House of Fingolfin, and no wilting lily to quiver in the shadows. Instead, she was fascinated as she reined in her horse, for the very pallor of night was upon the manse, and in it all of the beauty of Varda.

“Lady, be welcome.” Eöl bowed before her, and his manner was charming, and his smile sharp. “This is the House of Eöl.”

“I thank you,” said Aredhel, her dark hair spilling over her white shoulders. “I have traveled many leagues, and my horse is weary.”

“And so are you,” he said, offering her his hand, and Aredhel slipped from the back of the horse. “You will find rest here.” Her hand was cool and small in his, and he held it as he guided her within the keep, and the doors shut behind them.

* * *

Aredhel had no complaint about her treatment in the house of Eöl, and there was nothing she could long for she did not receive. The bed was deep and soft, and the wine was rich and quenching. Fresh fruit was brought to her on a tray of silver each morning, figs and pomegranates and luscious pears. A tub of hammered gold was hers to wash in. The silks she was given to dress with were white and silver, and she gleamed in the candlelight as she passed in Eöl’s halls. The lord was attentive, too. He dined with her each night, and was ever present for her entertainment. They lied down along soft, dark couches, and he played the lute and sang to her in a deep and soothing voice, unlike the voices of her father or her brothers. Aredhel would tilt her head back, her hair cascading down to the polished floor, and drifted in enchantment sweet and twilit.

“Tell me of your family,” he asked her, as they walked in his garden, rich with fern and berry and tree. “How came the White Lady to my forest?”

“I am the daughter of Fingolfin,” she said, and plucked a black rose from its vine, and did not notice the darkness that crossed the man’s face. “In the city of Gondolin. But I came searching for my kin, the sons of Fëanor.”

“Why so?” There was a spray of white jasmine along a trellis, and he cut it with his sharp knife, and twined it into her hair. “Deep love have you for them?”

“Once I did, yes, and would again.”

“There are many sins set at the feet of the House of Fëanor.”

“Still I would love them.”

Eöl scowled at this, but he could not find fault with it. For though she was of the Ñoldor, would he not have her all to his own? The desires of the heart were ever strange.

* * *

She grew teasing and imperious and radiant in her comfort in Eöl’s hall. His servants deferred to her in everything, so that she made decisions on what should be served, and what should be stored, and how the house should be run. And they answered her, “Yes, lady,” and, “As the lady bids.” She felt as powerful as any queen, the unquestioned Aredhel, where before she had been “Turgon’s sister, the princess of Gondolin,” with all the chains that accompanied the title.

And she teased Eöl at table, saying, “Where is it you disappear to during the daylight, so that I must entertain myself for hours at a time?”

“Do you mean to say you miss me when I am not beside you?”

“Would you not like to be told that I do? Answer me first.”

“I,” the Dark Elf said, drinking his wine, “work my forge. For I count the naugrim among my friends, and they have taught me much in secret.”

“Oh…” Aredhel’s mouth parted in wonder and she was dazzled at the thought, for the Ñoldor valued smithing highly.

“What you see in this hall was wrought by my own hands, the great and the small.”

“Eöl, then,” she smiled flirtatiously, “is a lord of much strength and intelligence.”

“And generosity,” he added, and pulled from his pocket a silver chain, from which hung a gem of white, and it glittered like a star as it dangled from his hand. “Will you take this bauble, lady?”

She did not hesitate, but bid him fasten it around her neck. Eöl stood behind her chair and did this, and his fingers brushed her bare, white shoulders, and touched the ends of her dark hair; and it was the first link of a great chain that Eöl forged, that Aredhel wrapped around herself.

* * *

Anguirel, his sword, hung in pride of place in his hall, and it gleamed with how carefully it was cleaned and oiled, and the leather of its hilt was supple, and black. Aredhel was fascinated by it, and one night finally reached out her hand, but heard Eöl saying, “Do not touch.” The lord had been watching her, and approached, his heavy, dark cloak sweeping the floor. Yet he smiled at her. “It is very dangerous, you might be hurt.”

“I am not a child, to be worried over with anything sharp.”

“Indeed, no one who saw you could think so,” he told her, and his hand reached out, and clasped hers as it stretched toward the blade. “For Aredhel is a woman in full flower, of beauty unsurpassed, rare as any prize.”

She looked at him from the corner of her bright eyes, and stretched her hand further, so they reached together, and together ran fingers along the pommel. “The work is without equal, my lord.”

“And would the lady have this sword pledged to her, in service and honor?” But Aredhel only laughed, and dropped his hand, and danced away from him. But Eöl minded not at all, for he saw what she did not, the chains of gold and silver that wrapped around her ankles and her waist.

* * *

There were other gems that followed, and she swallowed them all hungrily. He slid a bracelet of gold and adamant along her wrist, and kissed the pulse point there. A ring of sapphire onto her finger, and he turned her hand, and kissed her palm. A diadem of mithril, with a pearl drop at its crest, and he kissed her brow, and then each soft cheek, and they stood close to one another, and their breath was gentle as it mingled.

Time came at last when Aredhel knew she had lingered longer than she should have, and said, “Though Lord Eöl’s graciousness is endless, I must return to my own people.” And Eöl’s face and mood was dark, and he would not speak to her for the rest of the night, and Aredhel’s hands worried at each gem he had given her, and twisted into the silks he’d put about her. When she would see him, night after night, she would ask, “When, lord, will I have your leave to go?” but never did he answer, so that she began to despair – not of being trapped, but of losing his good opinion and affection, until at last she wept at the casement of her room, and was inconsolable.

And Eöl found her there, as he always knew he would, and his hands stretched around from behind her, and gently took hold of her wrists, and pulled her off the sill, so she hung helpless before him, cheeks stained by tears. “The White Lady weeps to be parted from Nan Elmoth?”

“From its lord,” she gasped with a sob, lips trembling as she gazed into his dark eyes.

“Then do not depart,” he answered, taking a seat beside her on the bed, and holding her wrists still.

“My king and brother awaits in Gondolin – its fountains and its towers are emptier for my absence.”

“And how much emptier still shall be the House of Eöl, if the lady leaves it now?” His hands slid from her wrists along her arms, until they crossed her shoulders and were firm along her back. And as such, he drew her closer, and Aredhel did not object, and her hands rested on his firm chest. “Why did you leave Gondolin, if not for such freedom?”

“It feels so long ago now…”

“And let it be longer.” He dusted his kiss on each cheek in turn, and tasted her tears against his lips, and he relished this victory as surely as any other. “For here I would make you my lady, and you would be a queen of twilight, and gems should be your crown, and the forest your roof, and my very body the carpet at your feet.”

“How can I refuse you? And yet, how can I agree, with leave of neither father nor brothers?”

“There are ways of marriage, and there are ways of marriage,” he said, and one long finger he let linger against her full, lower lip. “The Marriage by the Bed no father nor brother could contest, if willingly you give yourself to me, and I to you. No, nor the very valar across the sea. And Aredhel would be mine forever.” He leaned close, and she leaned in turn, and they were almost touching. “Never to be parted so long as she lives. Say only yes.”

And Aredhel forged the last link of her chain, for more often than not, such binds we put on gladly and joyfully. And she kissed Eöl, held in his arms on the bed he gave her, and no valar could have decried their wedding.


End file.
